


Oneiric Lies

by Uniasus



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Branding, M/M, Post-Kingdom Hearts II, Rape, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their screams of frustration and rage will be the lullaby I will play in my head every night before I go to sleep. And every morning I will wake up to a songbird of your cries of pain and the sound of your spirit snapping in half.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oneiric Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted ff.net and lj.com May 17th, 2009 for my sister's 18th b-day.

They say opposites attract. For Sephiroth, opposites loathe. The sun and moon hated each other because the other always limited their time in the sky. Water hated fire because it had the power to separate its molecules. Fire detested the wet stuff because with enough, it would be completely smothered. Worms hated the birds that landed on the grass with resounding thumps and took away friends and relatives to be eaten alive. Birds hated the skills of their wiggly opponents, coming up empty beaked more often than they would like. Humans hated nature; it destroyed their history, prevented their expansion, and ultimately was involved in their death. Nature wanted to stomp out the over growing sensation that was killing it with abuse and selfishness.

Ideally Sephiroth would place Cloud at the top of his list, but the two were too similar. They had parallel exposure to things, coming from the same world. They were both skilled warriors of the sword, both tainted by battle and death from their fingers to their soul. Granted, the blonde warrior had a larger protection streak, something Sephiroth took advantage of from time to time to irk the other, but it was not above Cloud to put others aside and do things for selfish reasons. Sephiroth too was selfish. They both also took it upon themselves to get things done. The two had different views, for sure, but they were not polar opposites.

No, the one Sephiroth reserved his most hateful sneers for was someone much younger than him, an adolescent who wielded a weapon made not from steal but from pleasant memories and ties of the heart. Someone who had both more things to smile about and friends to come to his aide than Sephiroth. A person with hair many shades darker than his metallic silver, a height many centimeters below him, with blue eyes many shades warmer, and a smile many times brighter and truer. Sephiroth wanted to change that smile, to see pain at the edges and blood slowly dripping from the corners. He wanted that smile to die and know that he was the cause of it. Sephiroth wanted the keyblader Sora completely at his mercy and broken.

He had things planned, not quite down to the last detail because he wanted room for improvisation depending on his captive, but enough that he would wake up at night tingling all over with excitement and anticipation. But to get his hands on Sora would not be an easy feat. The teen was never truly alone, two other keybladers lived near him and he always traveled with companions, usually the two lackeys of the pebble sized King Mickey. And as much as Sephiroth wanted to squeeze Sora in between his fingers he could never figure out a good way to do it. So when the opportunity presented itself he snagged it before it could even think about passing him by, taking it as a sign that he was meant to have Sora.

It was quite unexpected. He had been trying to locate Cloud, because he did love to aggravate the blonde, when his instruments picked up a distress call from another ship. Apparently a piece of the engine had come off, causing the driver to lose control of the vehicle. It was currently in the high ends of the atmosphere of a nearby world, being attacked by flying heartless.

Sephiroth scoffed at the message. It was a repeated recording, meant to be broadcasted over and over while the ship’s crew tried to take care of the emergency. The starbursts of lights down below told him that the battle was still going on, so the message could not have been much more than 20 min old. Without functioning engines, it would be hard to hard to use the gun. They had a limited range of movement, so most of the aiming was done with the ship’s control. Ultimately, Sephiroth knew the heartless would win.

He debated for a moment about whether or not to watch the carnage. He could use a bit of entertainment, not finding much on the world he had left earlier that day. But he had a solid lead on Cloud’s whereabouts. A good fight was an hour, two tops away. Sephiroth shut off the transmission and started to accelerate away when a lone gummi block caught his attention. It was obviously old, and most likely the piece the ship down below had lost. As his own ship passed it, the silver haired man noticed a logo of three circles stamped on to it. The ship was from the Disney Kingdom, and the only people who would travel this far from the world were –

Without braking Sephiroth brought the ship around into a sharp descending turn, heading towards the distressed ship. It was lower in the atmosphere than he expected, most likely due to damage caused by the heartless clinging to it. He did not recognize the breed of heartless, but that did not faze him. The dark creatures tended to be world specific. Of the three gun mounts on the ship, it seemed only one was still functional. Sephiroth could not believe his luck. His prey was disabled and battle weary; come tonight his plans would finally be able to be more than mere fantasy.

He could imagine the look of relief on Sora’s face when the brunette saw his ship, more armed than the handicapped one and fully capable of getting rid of the 20 heartless swarm. He could imagine the softened eyes widening as all of Sephiroth’s five guns pointed themselves at the last functioning engine and fired, the frantic dive for cover as he rammed his own ship straight into the other cock pit.

After the crunch of the impact had subsided Sephiroth boarded the other ship, smiling at the wrecked bridge. The two lackeys, the duck and dog…thing, were strapped into seats behind a control panel. At the foot of the panel, lying in a crumpled heap was a brown haired youth. He must have been standing near the window and had been hit by Sephiroth’s vessel, being thrown backwards until hitting the control panel. A wet crimson stain was evident on the metal, making Sephiroth’s body shiver with joy over the thought of causing more of it to leave the young body.

Bending down, Sephiroth took note of Sora’s condition. His heartbeat was a steady, strong rhythem, but his breathing was slightly pained. The silverette smiled to himself, eventually that bruised rib would be broken. Taking more care than one would expect he lifted the boy over his shoulder and made his way back to his own gummi ship. Soft groans and a low, worried moan of “Sora?!” was evidence that the other two had survived. That would be remedied soon. Even though Sephiroth’s ship was smaller, it was more powerful than that stupid king’s. As soon as he detached from this junk heap it would plummet eight thousand feet to the ground, killing the other two and leaving him with his prize.

~*~

He had so many things planned out to do, so many things to use, but after he strung Sora up all he found himself doing was staring. The teen was still out cold, hanging from the ceiling by wrist manacles with spikes on the inside drawing blood from supple flesh. It had run down in soft rivulets when Sephiroth had first put them on, slipping down tanned arms to a not so dark torso and continuing down naked sides until it had stained small parts of his pants. With the dark light they were hard to see, but Sephiroth had felt the wet spots when he considered taking off the boy’s pants in addition to his shirt. He had decided not to and even now, looking at the boy and the dried, flaking blood trails, wondered why not.

Sora moaned, a sign he was waking up. Quickly Sephiroth made his way behind him and tied a blindfold over the teen’s eyes. Eventually he would see the fear in those blues, see the light leave, but for now he was playing with the fear of the unknown. It was a little harder than he had expected it to be, Sora was hanging so hollow of his throat was at level with Sephiroth’s eyes. The brunette was currently standing on a wooden support, but Sephiroth was not planning on allowing that for long.

Putting on the blindfold had woken Sora up more; his head was turning from side to side, the hair in the back not as buoyant as that in the front due to the blood from Sora’s head injury.

“Who’s there?” the lack of fear in his voice amused Sephiroth so much he let out a chuckle. The tremor in his young body gave him away, as did the frantic movements with his wrists.

“Who’s there?” it was more of a growl this time. Sephiroth moved toward the boy and watched as Sora listen to the sound of his footsteps. He paused next to the teen’s side, watching a new blood droplet slide down skin since Sora had opened the forming scabs by moving his wrists. Just before it touched the waistband of his pants Sephiroth caught it with his tongue, following the drop’s path up until just below the keyblader’s armpit. The youth shuddered at the touch.

“Blood, sweat, and fear. A taste far above any other. I’m planning on getting my full from you, and then bottling the rest.”

“Sephiroth.”

He gave a small laugh at the sound of venom coming from a body most thought to be so full of Light. “Yes indeed keyblader. You are mine from this moment forward, for no one knows where you are; no one knows what happened to you.”

“Donald and Goofy will come for me!”

“I find that hard to believe, for they are dead. I killed them myself.” Sora’s entire body tensed and Sephiroth was surprised at the definition in the kid’s back. He had been walking around the boy all this time, looking at him, trying to find the perfect spot to start. He had been thinking that scar on Sora’s chest, the one that looked like the cracks of fractured glass between his nipples. But maybe he should start from behind.

“Lair!” Sora spat. Sephiroth lashed out with a forceful punch to Sora’s side, the sound of not one, but two ribs cracking more pleasant to his ears then the sound of Cloud’s pleas for him to release a child hostage.

“Ahh!” Sora gasped painfully and Sephiroth grabbed his chin, nails digging into the skin. “I crashed into your gummi ship. All three of you were knocked unconscious, so I sliced off their heads, took you, and let the ship crash to ground. The explosion was better than I had hoped it would be.”

A strangled sob escaped the youth’s throat and Sephiroth ripped off the blindfold, wanting to see Sora’s expression. His eyes seemed to have shrunk, the blue less evident and a dark color than usual due to the sudden expansion of his pupils. The expression was so open, so hurt, so saddened and depressed, Sephiroth wanted to freeze the boy’s body so his face would always be contorted like that, with tears just waiting to fall. But it was only the sudden removal of the blindfold that had given him the chance to see Sora’s emotions. Quickly the teen shut them off, his eyes narrowed as he sucked in his cheek. “You monster!” the brunette spat at him and he felt the wet bullet hit his left cheek. In a flash Sephiroth had released his sword and cut a diagonal slash across the bare back, taking pleasure in the scream that resounded.

Sora was right in calling him a liar, though the boy probably had just said it trying to deny the reality of his situation. While it was true nobody knew where Sora was being held, the king’s cronies had survived. He had sent a spy to Disney Kingdom and learned that shortly after he had left Sora’s gummi ship another had arrived, answering the same distress call he had heard. It had been a large ship, one with a tractor beam that had stopped the crash with fifteen feet to spare. The passengers had survived and informed the king that he had been the one to capture Sora. The spy said search teams had been sent out, but none had come near his current location and it was going to stay that way.

“W-what…do you…want…with me?” It was obvious the broken ribs were hard on Sora’s breathing.

“To see you in pain, broken. To see the blood flow from your mouth and wounds on your body.” Sephiroth circled around to face Sora again, a diamond hard smile on his face. “Most of all, to have fun.”

A quick kick dislodged Sora’s support and he cried out as all his weight was suddenly being supported by his two spiked wrists. The wounds from the cut began to bleed again, more heavily this time than the other two. Some of it streamed down his back, some of it down his chest to trace just defined pectorals. Sephiroth caught a droplet with his finger at the end of Sora’s sternum, turning it sideways as he stroked upward to collect as much of the ruby liquid as possible. The body beneath his finger tried to cringe away, but it was hard to do while dangling from the ceiling.

Sephiroth put the digit in his mouth. The taste, and the look of horror and disgust Sora’s face made it doubly sweet. He closed his eyes, using his tongue to get at the last bit under his fingernail. All of a sudden he felt a blunt object forcefully hit his chest. He took a couple of steps backwards, opening his eyes to see Sora lowering his legs. Sephiroth had not thought the boy would have the arm strength to be able to pull up his weight to that extent. Shame on him for underestimating his captive. A quick flash of silver found Sora with Sephiroth’s sword imbedded in his thigh, head thrown back and blood dribbling down his chin from how hard the teen had bitten his lip.

“You don’t like pain, do you keyblader?” As he asked, Sephiroth rotated the sword hilt, taking pleasure in the noises Sora made. “You’re fine in battle, adrenaline kicks in and you always have potions or magic to cure yourself. You’re never in pain longer than you have to be. Why is that?”

Sora glared at him, before throwing his head back in pain again as Sephiroth forced the blade in deeper before swiftly pulling it out.

“Well, here you will be in a lot of pain, keyblader. You don’t have any potions, and your magic is inaccessible without your keyblade. But I have taken care with your restraints; your hands and chains are so close together that you will not be able to wrap your hand around the keyblade’s hilt if you call it.”

Sephiroth expected to see even a hint of hopelessness on the teen’s face, but it was neutral. No doubt he was going to try to prove him wrong. He patted Sora’s cheek a couple of times before silently exiting the room through a door to the brunette’s back. After waiting a couple of minutes he heard the sound of metal clanking to the floor and muffled curses through the door. The series repeated a couple of time before Sephiroth walked away with a smirk on place. He’ld come back to play with his toy after enough time had passed for Sora’s shoulders to dislocate under the stress of his own body weight.

~*~

When Sephiroth entered the room the next morning after a simple breakfast he was tracing the end of a brand with his index finger. While fire was not his favorite thing to play with, he had many amusements lined up for this session. Sora had jerked out of his hyper-vigilant sleep when the door opened and closed so Sephiroth stayed still, out of the boy’s sight to lull him into a false sense of security.

He amused himself with looking at Sora’s back. The shoulders had obviously dislocated sometime during the night. A gleeful look entered his eyes as he noticed the faint muscle spasms that started at the joint and rippled outwards up his arms and down his back; Sora was bound to be in constant pain, but he had to give the boy credit to dealing with it. Of course, he doubted that the keyblader could hold his tongue when he branded the large bruise that had blossomed over the entire upper expanse of the young back.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked in a low croon.

Sora’s head jerked up. “Why yes, yes I did. Thanks for asking,” he spit out.

Sephiroth chuckled as he walked around to the front of the boy. There were black rings under his eyes and he looked haggard all over, most likely from the lack of a good sleep or meal since his capture. Blood dribbled down his chin from where Sora had bitten through his lower lip. Yup, those shoulders were painful.

“Good, good. I’ld hate for you to think I’m lacking in hospitality.”

Sora scowled.

Sephiroth called forth a fire spell, using his control over the weak spell to have it hover in a sphere near his elbow. He could feel Sora’s questioning look at it, for it was far weaker than Sephiroth was capable of, and delighted at the increasing apprehension in the room.

“Do you know what this is?” he innocently asked, lifting up the brand so it was between the two of them. The brunette shook his head, wary. Sephiroth stuck the flat, designed end into the ball of fire; such a condensed concentration of flame made sure it would be hot enough in no time.

“It’s called a brand. It’s used to mark herds of animals, usually cattle or horses or other such large animals kept for profit, as belonging to a certain individual. As such each one is different. It’s quite easy to brand an animal. The metal is heated and then applied directly to the skin, burning off the hair and upper layer of skin underneath.” He rotated the brand in the fire, seeing Sora squirm out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course,” he lunged, the brand was pressed into Sora left pectoral. Sora threw his head back and made the most musical howl Sephiroth had ever heard. He pulled the metal away and stuck it back in the ball of fire. “It’s a lot easier to brand humans, there is less hair and skin to burn through. Hmm,” he reached out to touch the bleeding and blistered skin. Sora hissed and tried to back away to no avail. “Apparently humans need a lower temperature brand for the symbols to be seen properly.

He crouched down, placed the stem of the brand across his thighs and took off the shoe and sock of Sora’s right foot. “They say the heel is the most sensitive spot on the body, shall we see if they are right?”  
Sora lashed out, kicking Sephiroth in the shoulder. It was not very forceful, it was hard to put any force behind any kind of attack when dangling from a ceiling, but it was enough to unbalance him. The brand went clashing to the ground with a loud clang as Sephiroth fell backwards to his bum. Sora’s grin of triumph quickly changed to a grimace of pain as Sephiroth dug his nails into his ankle, nails he had sharpened just before coming in.

Sephiroth used his free hand to insert the metal instrument into the ball of fire at his shoulder. “When will you learn, keyblader, that you can not escape what I have planned for you? Struggling will make it hurt more.”

He removed the brand from the heat, allowed it to cool down a little bit, but when he applied it to Sora’s heel he knew it was most likely still too hot but he did not care. This spot was selected for pain, not visibility. And how painful it was! He purposely kept the brand on skin longer than was necessary, watching the boy writhe and wiggle, trying to escape the pain. Sora’s wounds had reopened and his blood was once again dripping. Sephiroth would have to take the boy’s pants off soon to see the rivulets flow past hips and down bare, pink thighs.

Even when he took the brand off skin, Sora’s body still jerked and his eyes watered in pain. Sephiroth almost felt bad for the boy, seeing those tears fall down his cheeks, but his sense of excitement was even greater. He felt warmth start to pool in his stomach when Sora spat at him again and hissed. “You’re a bastard.” Had the projectile been as venomous as the words, Sephiroth would have lost a couple of layers of skin.

As a response, he dug a nail into the burn on Sora’s foot. The lack of response from the boy surprised both of them. Testing, Sephiroth tightened his grip on the ankle, feeling the bones strain under the pressure. When the ankle finally broke Sora gasped in pain, a strained whine caught in his throat. So then, the nerves on his foot had just been damaged too much to function.

Sephiroth stood, grabbed the brand and made his way around the hanging youth, the fireball following him. It was flickering, the spell would only hold for one, maybe two more brand attempts. He stopped, staring at the deep eggplant color on Sora’s back. Perfect. The brand was thrust into the flame and pulled out repeatedly to check its color. Sora kept trying to turn his head to see what was going on, but his arms got in the way.

Finally, the iron was a bright orange color. Sephiroth watched it change to a dull red-orange before pressing it against the teen’s right shoulder. Sora arched away as best as he could within his ability, the cry of pain lasting longer than the metal was held against skin. Sephiroth looked at the burned skin; it was raw and pink, but the brand was very visible. A curly 2-inch S with a wing extending from the top right corner would forever be visible on Sora’s back with muddy, not as distinct versions on his chest and foot.

Sora had already regained control of his breathing, the pain was not as intense as he would have liked for an ideal branding. Sephiroth glanced over at what was left of his fire spell. It had taken less power that he though to heat the iron up for a proper branding, he could mark the keyblader once more and have just enough left over for another painful application, perhaps on a tender thigh this time. But first…he had always been intrigued by the idea of a tattoo on the back hemline, a ‘tramp stamp’ according to the youths of a world he had recently visited. Considering what he had next in mind, it only seemed right to personally brand Sora there next.

~*~

As much as he had enjoyed seeing Sora dangling from the ceiling, this view was much better. Spiked manacles had been traded for an internally spiked collar, his wrists now tied to the two posts at the head of the bed with long silk scarves. Hands wrapped around hard wood left little room to grab a keyblade. Sephiroth almost lamented the loss of the opportunity of having those hands touch his body, but he was not so drunk with the need for touch that concern for his safety eluded him. Not that Sora could have done too much damage with the state his shoulders were in; the boy could not move the joints, evidence of torn ligaments. Plus putting weight on his feet was no small challenge either, with one ankle broken and a badly burned sole.

The silverette shivered a little from the cold as he started undressing, a contrast to the liquid lighting that had started pooling in the bottom of his stomach as soon as he had stripped Sora down and bound him to the bed. And the coldness of the room did not help either. Goosebumps had developed over Sora’s body and the boy’s nipples were already erect. The whole situation made Sora seem effete, as if all the strength and vitality of life had left the young body.

Indeed it had. Sephiroth had made sure the teen was not physically able to leave, had seen blood dribble out of that mouth, watched as the wounds he inflicted caused the red fluid to flow sensuously down, smelt the burnt flesh, and witnessed night blossoms bloom across pale skin. The power he had over Sora’s body was evident every time he looked at the still youth and filled him up like a heady wine. It invaded all his senses, made him acutely aware of lines of the Sora’s body, the heat that his flesh radiated, the hue of his eyes, the scent wafting out pores, and the shock that resulted from every time their skin touched.

Oh, he hated Sora. Hated him so much for making him feel this way. For making him work to keep himself under control and not give into the something primal that was slowly getting strong. Loathed him for having a broken, useless, weak body, and still not being broken enough.

Those blue eyes still flashed, teeth still snapped, and words still held malice strong enough to make his own rise in challenge. Sephiroth wanted to snap the neck of Sora’s soul, to see the eyes dim and only hold fear and submissiveness, to get rid of the hope, belief, no faith that one of his precious friends would come rescue him and things would go back to normal. He wanted the pleasant memories to become mere forgotten fantasies, for human relationships to become so tainted that the only course of action would be to forget they ever existed and never try to forge another. He wanted the light leaking from all corners of Sora’s soul to flicker and die because the only thing that leaked from his was as suffocating and as deadly as layers and layers of volcanic ash. He wanted –

To crawl over that prone form and take a pert nipple in his mouth.

Sephiroth growled to himself. He had planned on waiting until Sora woke from the pain his fists and kicks had sent the boy to. Wanted to see fear swell up in those too pure blue eyes as he approached to touch and taste with nothing to stop him. But the primal thing within screamed and lashed at its chains, attacking the bottom of its cage until his stomach quivered, dropped, and the cage broke open, gallons of lust spreading from his loins to the tips of his extremities. Sephiroth had been looking forward to this part of his plan the longest and, he looked down, his body was not willing to wait any longer.

He kicked the garments lying around his ankles away and pulled his long hair back with a band while crossing the meter between himself and Sora. Slowly he crawled up the side of the bed, moving to straddle the unconscious brunette. For some unknown reason he took the care to avoid the bruises, cuts, and burns as he placed his knees and hands. He stared at Sora’s sleeping face before traveling down his neck to his chest to scar there. Somewhere near the neck his pale fingers had joined the road trip and were now lightly tracing over the thin lines that snaked out from the center point on Sora’s chest. One stopped just shy of the right nipple. Sephiroth snarled; it was wrong that it was not him that gotten it to stand up and be hard like that. He would have to improve on that bit of skin.

His right arm moved from next to broken ribs to along side a collared neck, his head went down. Suddenly, Sephiroth did not care about being gentle. He bit the nipple, hard enough to draw blood. A hiss, sputter and clatter of chains sounded above him, causing him to look up. Sora had awoken. He smiled seductively.

“Hello keyblader. Enjoying yourself?”

Sora tried to pick his head up to spit at him, his only way to lash out physically, but the spikes in the collar and the short chain quickly made him change his mind. He settled for growling instead. Sephiroth chuckled low in his throat, moving to catch the fresh blood droplets on Sora’s neck with his tongue. The brunette shuddered with disgust.

“Now, now. I wouldn’t try anything if I were you. You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“If you think I’m just going to lie here and take it you’re wrong!”

“Ah, but you have no choice,” he lowered his head, tongue lazily circling the nipple while his right hand slipped down Sora’s side to cross his stomach at the low end of the teen’s waist. The brunette’s clamped moan caused him to chortle.

“You can’t stop me, and your body seems to like my attentions.” His hand graced back across Sora’s stomach to go down as far as he could reach of the teen’s outer left thigh before traversing to the inner thigh and moving up. Sora had tensed up and gritted his teeth at the touch, but when Sephiroth ran his palm down the youth’s member a surprised, but pleasured gasp passed through tight lips.

“See?” Sephiroth pulled himself higher to interrupt Sora’s view of the ceiling.

“The only thing I see,” Sora snarled, “Is someone no one wants so he has to kidnap someone and force himself on them to get laid.”

A loud slap resonated through the room and a red mark slowly began appearing on Sora’s cheek. “I am never at a loss for company when I travel,” Sephiroth hissed.

“Right, but none of them follow you home apparently.”

A hard left hook followed this time. Sora spat blood out onto the side of the bed.

“I never wanted to bring any here.”

“What makes me so special?”

Sephiroth wiped the grin off Sora’s face by digging his knee into broken ribs. The gasp of pain that followed lifted his spirits a little, but then he saw the teen’s eyes. He had wanted to use this to break the kid’s mind, to see the life in those blue eyes sink away. But now, now they held as much if not more vitality than when they had first locked glazes in the dungeon two floors below.

“What makes you think you’re special?”

“Why else go through all this trouble?”

Sephiroth snarled, not knowing what to say. Yes, Sora was special. It was only him who invoked certain, reactions from his mind and body. Only him who he wanted in this type of position. Only him he dreamed of touching.

“Yes, you’re special. Special because of the panic your loss brings to the world. Imagine what will happen when there is no keyblade wielder to fend off the darkness. Worlds will crumble, hearts will be devoured. You just managed to stop Maleficent and first time and needed help to defeat the Organization. Who can stop people like them with you gone? Mickey is getting old; most of the assistance he gave you was factual. And do you really think your is up to the challenge? The edge he walks is so thin. Without you, I think it won’t take long for him to fall off the wrong side. And the princesses are weak, most untrained.

“I love pain,” slowly he pressed his hand over the collar around Sora’s throat, forcing the spikes into tender flesh. “And I love it even more when I know I’m the cause. The look on your friends’ faces when I drop your dead body off at their doorstep will be an elixir of pleasure. I will laugh when they try to avenge you and fail, their screams of frustration and rage will be the lullaby I will play in my head every night before I go to sleep. And every morning I will wake up to the songbird of your cries of pain and the sound of your spirit snapping in half. Yes, you’re special, because by destroying you I will destroy so many more.”

A wave of satisfaction swelled in his breast as Sephiroth saw something crack behind Sora’s eyes. And when the boy spoke, it was at a lower volume and confidence level than his previous out bursts.

“You know what I think? I think you’re jealous. You don’t have anyone, do you? The only person you have contact with on a regular basis is Cloud and even then all you do is fight. You envy me because I have friends who care about whether I live or die, people who would miss me. But if news got out of your demise, the only emotions felt would be relief and joy and you would never be given a second thought.”

Sephiroth did nothing but stare at the brunette for a couple heartbeats, just shy of gaping before he noticed the smile on Sora’s face. It was small, but filled with so much sadness and pity, and what that a hint of smugness? that it made him want to gag. He let out a cynical laugh instead.

“You trying to figure me out, boyo? I’ll you the truth, I hate your fucking smile!” Snarling he landed a blow on Sora’s face before jumping up and off the bed and grabbing his belt.

“And I’m tired of hearing your voice!” With his right hand he pried the youth’s mouth open and forced the belt horizontally in between the jaws so it would act like a gag. He then wrapped the rest of the leather around Sora’s head, getting pleasure from the burst of pain the boy received when it touched the wound on the back of his head. Sephiroth pulled the belt through the buckle and cinched it tight against the broken skin on Sora’s left cheek.

And now, with nothing to stop him, every inch of Sora’s skin was his to do with as he wanted. He grinned a shark’s smile at the bound boy, saw the eyes widen in alarm and the finality of the situation hit them. That look was a solid lump of sugar on his tongue; sweetness unparalleled until he bit the boy’s other nipple and blood flowed down his throat.

He spent time going from one nipple to the other. It would be sucked, hard, before being bitten and then his tongue would circle around and around until it could no longer taste the saltiness of blood. Only then would the same treatment be applied to the other nipple.

While his mouth performed the rough treatment his hand would smooth and caress the other nipple using feather light touches while he sucked. When he bit his hand drifted lower, and while he tasted blood that hand would grace back and forth in the crevice of skin where Sora’s leg and groin connected. It always resulted half restrained bucks on Sora’s behalf and indistinguishable noises from behind the belt that contained traces of a moan on occasion. Whenever he heard on of those, Sephiroth smiled around his mouthful.

When it got to the point where he did not have to bite to draw blood, it was sucked out of the many puncture holes he had created instead, Sephiroth moved lower. His ran the full length of his tongue up and down Sora’s sternum, feeling the boy shiver from something that was not pleasure. His hands moved down to cup thin hips before slipping around the bone structure to finger knead a tense bottom. It was obvious Sora did not like his ministrations, but when his tongue tip just brushed against skin where the boy’s shaft met his abdomen the gasp that slipped around the leather was not one of pain. So of course, Sephiroth had to counteract that by dragging his teeth over the bruises on his ribs and the burn on his chest before once again using his tongue in a delicate manner to trace the scar on Sora’s chest.

He moved down, sucking hard enough to bruise and lightly flicking the area with his tongue before moving across, down, ever closer to the part of Sora that no matter how much the brunette wanted to not react, was. The shudders and waves of revulsion that came from the youth were not enough to completely squelch the moans and mewls of pleasure or to prevent himself from half rising. Sephiroth himself had been aroused since before Sora had woken, had been pressing his length into the teen’s thigh since gagging him, but it really was not fair that he was the only one in that condition.

He lifted his head from Sora’s torso and blew on the areas still wet on the teen’s skin before shifting his entire body down the bed a couple inches. The form underneath him shivered and tried to sink into the sheets; a choked whimper was released.

Using his feet, Sephiroth pried apart young legs as wide as the binding would allow him before planting a chaste kiss on a right ankle. He then moved upward, all lips, while on the other leg his thumb went over the same spots in slow, tantalizing circles. The going was slow, for he wanted to feel and taste every pore, to have Sora stew and squirm inside at his touch and ultimately give in to helplessness.

When he got as high as he could possible go, Sephiroth paused a moment before opening his jaws wide and engulfing Sora’s scrotum. The keyblader emitted a loud muffled noise as his back arched. Sephiroth had to use his hands to keep the brunette from snapping his legs closed, but still took the care to roll the teens balls around in his mouth as if they were chocolate truffles. A sound that could have been a sob was covered up by the sound of splintering wood. He was glad that the bedposts had a narrow cylinder of iron running through them, he had no idea Sora’s hand strength would be enough to damaged the wood.

Slowly he emptied his mouth. Unable to use his hands as they were still being used to pry open Sora’s legs, he used the teen’s lower abs to wipe his mouth. He chuckled as the muscles retracted, Sora’s meager attempt to get away.

He breathed out just little, like child might do to tease the classmate who sat in front of him, directing the air up and down the underside of Sora’s member, which by now was undesirably erect. More noise came from bedposts. The cool air gave way hot bated breath as Sephiroth moved his mouth closer and closer, until finally the barest amount of head was in between his lips. The silverette sucked, once gently, once hard, before swirling his tongue around the skin and bringing his head up. And then he repeated, taking just a hair more of Sora in his mouth the second time. Suck suck twirl, pull up, take in more, suck suck twirl, pull up, take in more, suck suck twirl pull take suck twirl pull take suck twirl.

Sora was emitting noises of distress, and the minute jerks of his hips were transforming into full bucks and hip thrusts as he slowly lost control. Sephiroth hardly noticed, aside from moving his hand from inner thighs to hips bones to keep his toy still. He was too lost in the knowledge that who he was currently blowing off and soon would be mounting was none other that the keyblader Sora. Through the skin he was sucking he could swear he could taste salt water and warm sunshine. His own erection was emitting a dull pulse between his legs that intensified when he tasted the creamy texture of pre cum starting to weep from the teen’s organ in his mouth. Really, the boy had no stamina.

It did not take long. Sora’s movements had become too erratic to continue his set pace so after taking him to the hilt three times Sephiroth felt the entire teen’s body stretch and bend as bow being stringed for the first time before snapping back to its previous position with a forceful howl. He had managed to pull his head back in time to avoid a mouth full of seed and watched as Sora’s body gave way to arrhythmic twitches.

Sephiroth looked down the teen’s stomach, splashes of white strewn across it. He was eager for his own release, and judging by Sora’s now listless state he would have no trouble getting it as soon as possible. He debated against bathing Sora with his tongue; his excitement was too high to put things off any longer. The thrill of penetration was so near he could not deny himself the satisfaction any long.

Using the palm of his hand he collected the natural lube from Sora’s body and began stroking. He grasped his member tightly, loosening the grip as he approached his own head. His hand switched from over hand to under hand, from rounded to flat to make sure he was completely covered. Reaching far up on the bed he grabbed a pillow and placed it under Sora’s hips. The brunette did not do much more than shudder at the touch, Sephiroth felt wings of joy unfurl as he realized he had accomplished his goals. He did not take the time to savor the feeling; quickly he located the pert rosebud, positioned himself, and thrust.  
The heat, the pressure, and the friction generated from such tight fit in the first thrust alone! Sephiroth let out a moan, his first of the night. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling and sensations of this sheath. He had had his fair share of lays but none of them had stimulated him as much as this; had aroused him more even after inserting his spear in the other’s body. He pulled out and plunged in a second time, arching his back. He always knew that second piece of pie tasted the best.

Sephiroth could not understand it, the heat, pressure, and friction seemed to increase with each thrust, making him diminish the time between each shove into Sora. He knew the angle was wrong and rough on the body underneath him when one or two thrusts were more fluid do to the added lubricate of blood, but he did not stop. If anything he did his best to plunge in harder, to try to go deeper, until the physical sensation became so intense his vision went white and he felt energy slowly drain away. He pulled out with a small wet sound and took a couple of deep breaths. That was the best sex he had ever had, even as one sided as it was.

He picked up the corner of the sheet, wiped the blood and semen off his member, and hopped off the bed. Starting with his shirt he got dressed, his attention only returning to Sora when he was ready for his belt. He looked toward the bed.

Sora lay there, not moving and taking shallow breaths. There was blood on the sheets and pillows, from the most recent of activities and reopened cuts. There was also a slight yellow noticeable from near his right foot, no doubt from the puss of a popped blister. There were probably similar spots on the other side of the bed that he could not see. His torso was beginning to bruise from all his suckling and bites; one would be hard pressed to fit a finger length between marks, that’s how numerous they were. Sora’s head was turned toward him, eyes wide open. They were extremely dilated, seeming almost as dark as the space between stars, and even though they were looking straight at him Sephiroth got the distinct impression Sora was not really seeing him.

Cautiously he stepped closer. Sora never moved, never blinked, and as he got nearer he saw the chafed, bleeding edges of his mouth, the glassiness to his eyes, and the shine of salt on the pillow and cheeks. Sora might have cried tears of pain during their earlier sessions, but these tears were much more intimate. Sephiroth, looking back at what had just happened, recalled sobs and whines he had dismissed without a second thought.

He had done it. Here was Sora, lacking in smile and any semblance of light. It was exactly like he pictured it being, except the satisfaction and extreme glee, the need to gloat about this act to those who cared about the boy, was lacking. Instead he found that in breaking Sora, some part of him too had cracked.

“You were right,” Sephiroth started undoing the buckle to the gag. “You are special, and I don’t think it has anything to do with envy. It’s…something else.” He wanted nothing more are the moment to then to see Sora blink and have the brunette glare at him like had been done earlier. What he really wanted to was to see that smile, but he felt like he did not deserve to even think that hope.

Releasing a sigh, he began to undo the bindings tying Sora to the bed. There were several deep splinters in both hands, and the collar could not come off until it had been soaked. He did not want to rip off the congealed blood and reopen the wounds. Carefully, he wrapped Sora in the sheet and carried him to the bathroom.

~*~

He sat in his gummi ship, watching the screen. When he had dropped Sora off he left a camera near by, hidden of course, but placed to see everything to make sure things went well. After cleaning himself off he had sent an anonymous message to Disney Kingdom, informing the king that Sora would be found on the same world he had been taken from and in need of medical attention.

Sephiroth could not stand to touch Sora more than necessary. He had bathed the keyblader to get rid of the semen and blood but did not dress his wounds. After wrapping him in a soft white cloth Sephiroth laid him in a bed on his gummi ship and took off. He left the teen on the most even patch of ground he could find, placed his camera, and then retreated to his vessel. He parked on the opposite side of the world he knew the rescue team would come, making himself invisible while still being able to watch and make sure nothing happened.

They came about fifteen minutes after he released Sora from his arms. The warrior was not with them; it was the duck mage, Sora’s princess, and his best friend, the one who walked the narrow path of twilight. The girl had been the first one out, rushing to Sora’s side and then collapsing to her knees in tears. The boy was right behind her, also distraught.

It was the mage who took action first, calling his staff to perform a cure spell. Sephiroth did not feel joy when he saw the duck sputter in disbelief when the spell did not take affect, nor when it failed to work for the two keybladers. Guilt settled in the pit of his stomach as he recalled the first thing he had done to the boy. A year prior he had met a scientist who had managed to create a potion that would make the drinker incurable via magic for a period of three months. Sephiroth had injected Sora with it as soon as he had managed to steal the youth from the king’s gummi ship and had him strapped to a bed in his own. Sora would have to take the long road to recovery, and even then Sephiroth knew he would never be free of what had happened. The two brands on his back would never go away, and while the light in his eyes would eventually return it would never be as bright.

It was the teen boy who carried the limp body back to the gummi ship, the princess still trying to cast ineffective healing spells while walking. Sephiroth wanted them to come after him for revenge. He would fight, surely, but still lose. Who ever found him would find themselves just barely winning, for he could never let anyone know how he felt about what he did, about Sora. But win they would, and he would die a death too merciful than what he deserved.

He deserved to suffer ten times what he had inflicted on Sora, carried out by the brunette himself. But he kept thinking of that smile the keyblader wore before he had gagged him with a belt. That smile of pity. And he knew, oh he knew, that some how Sora would never be able to destroy him like he wanted. Sora would not kill him, would not keep him alive to go through torture after torture. He would extend a shaking, trembling, hesitant hand of forgiveness.

It was for that reason Sephiroth would avoid the keyblader, would hope for someone to come and finish him off before Sora could intervene. For while he deserved far more than he was going to get from them, it would be easier to handle than to see that hand and take it just to experience Sora. He knew that if offered he would take it, as much as he did not warrant it, he would take it just to near to the brunette. He really was a pitiful fool.


End file.
